


Language

by Desdimonda



Series: Broken Steps on the Broken Isles - Drabbles and vignettes about Maiev, Illidan and their relationship beneath the shadow of the Legion's invasion on Azeroth and beyond. [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Drabble, F/M, One Shot, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: This was a prompt I got on tumblr that asked me to write about Maiev liaising in a meeting with Illidan and his Illidari, but refusing to talk in anything but an old, old dialect of language that only Maiev and Illidan would understand. Maiev basically being an ass, and Illidan having to deal with it.





	Language

Kor’vas leaned against the pillar, hip cocked, as she stared at Maiev, the flicker of her fel green eyes giving everything away.

“Why is she here?” said Kor’vas, her words making Illidan look up from the map he and Kayn were perusing, spread out over the Command table, held roughly in place with two old daggers. 

“The Wardens will be assisting you both with this,” he said, through a weary sigh, feeling Maiev push herself away from the wall and approach.

“We don’t need them,” said Kor’vas, refusing to look away.

Illidan flared his wings and spread his hands atop the map, claws scratching the weathered parchment. “We _do_.”

Maiev fingered the handle of her chakram as she stood close to Kor’vas, the smirk hidden beneath her helm.

“From the trail of dead Kirin Tor he left behind in Dalaran, and then druids in Val’sharah, it seems he headed for Suramar,” said Kayn, his finger tracing the small pins, glowing with fel magic so his spectral sight could see. 

“Maiev - have your Wardens found anything new?” asked Illidan as he rose from the table, a weary sigh weathering his words.

“Oh - I’m needed, am I?” she asked, looking between Kor’vas and Illidan, her works rolling off slowly, purposefully, as when she spoke, the only other person in the room who would understand, was Illidan. The ancient dialect, native to their home - to their youths - fell past her lips, easily.

Kayn turned, knitting his brows as he tried to understand the words. He knew enough Darnassiun to get by - to understand his fellow hunters when common wasn’t enough. But he didn’t understand _this_. And turning his spectral gaze to Kor’vas, neither it seemed, did she.

At first, hearing those ancient words fall past her lips, that thick dialect melodic, against her tongue - for a moment, he was home. He was young. He wasn’t _this_. But as he felt his Illidari tense, confused, he turned to face Maiev, lifting two fingers to his temple.

“You are needed, _yes_ ,” he said back to her in common, so all in the small, cramped room could understand. “So are you giving me an answer or not?”

Maeiv smirked. “My Wardens saw a trail head south west in Suramar, to Felsoul Hold - scattered, but something,” she said to him, still in their old dialect.

Kayn scratched his cheek idly. “I - uh - my Lord?”

Illidan hissed, pushing away from the table. “Kayn, take Kor’vas with you to Suramar. Allari too.”

“Three of your best?” she said, rolling her fingers over the handle of her blade. “Risky. Why not send Kor’vas with Sira. They seem to…get on well.”

Kor’vas turned her head sharply at hearing her name amidst the rest of Maiev’s unintelligible words. 

“What the _hell_ is she saying?” bit Kor’vas, hearing Maiev laugh quietly after her outburst. _Just as she had wanted_.

Illidan strode forward until he stood close in-front of Maeiv - close enough to touch. He curled the tips of his wings around, the claws almost hooking on the curves of her pauldrons. “Show my Illidari some _respect_ ,” he said back to her in the tongue only they knew.

“Like they show me?” she snarled. 

“You do yourself no favours, Maiev,” said Illidan as he slyly drew his hand along her side, beneath the ripple of her cloak. 

“I can feel what it does to you, to hear me talk this tongue again. It makes you remember - it makes you _yearn_ ,” she said, the last word an almost whisper. 

Hidden behind his wing, Illidan’s hand spread across her stomach, trembling, as she spoke. And in an instant, in a breath, he pulled away and turned, his heart in his throat.

“Kayn, go with Allari and scout northern Felsoul Hold - Kor’vas, join Sira and take south,” he said as Kayn and Kor’vas looked between everyone with their confused, spectral gaze.

“My lord-” began Kayn.

“ _Now,_ ” he roared, scratching his claws against the map.

They bowed, turned, and left.

Illidan glanced behind his shoulder, seeing Maiev stand resolute, the green of her helmet, bright, in the dim light of the room.

“Are you leaving, or staying? Because I have no patience for your games,” he said in their ancient tongue, despite himself.

Her cloak fell to the floor.


End file.
